Casualty
by Sylvie Orp
Summary: Collins is proving more difficult to bring in than Cowley had anticipated. Strong men are needed.


Collins was proving more difficult to bring in than Cowley had anticipated. He'd sent his two best boys to pick him up. During the fracas of bringing him in, a few cronies joined in the 'fun'. Bodie received a deep cut up his arm from one of Collins' friends and made a mental note to return the favour some time in the future. Eventually calm was restored and Collins' friends melted away - those who were physically able to do so - and the bobbies took care of the others, leaving Collins in the tender care of CI5's men.

On the way to the car, Doyle having Collins in a strong arm lock, he whispered to Bodie, "I'll drop you off at Casualty."

Bodie was retrieving the handcuffs from Doyle's back pocket and replied, "I'm not leaving you alone with 'im."

Doyle could see the sense in this, but wanted Bodie to see a doctor before he bled to death. He was torn between common sense and, well, common sense.

Bodie was handcuffed to Collins in the back and he gave no further trouble. He seemed subdued as they pulled into the car park. Perhaps the sheer weight of the building and all it represented quelled Collins for now. Doyle had compromised and had a medic waiting for Bodie at HQ as their prisoner was hauled in front of Cowley, recuffed to a chair in the interrogation room, and Bodie was taken to the doctor. He was already feeling lightheaded. The consultant bandaged the arm tightly and ordered his patient to Casualty. Doyle popped his head round the interview door and told Cowley that he was going off with Bodie. Cowley knew what he meant.

"You may as well take this one with you," the Cow returned surprisingly.

Cowley hauled the man to his feet. The prisoner reeled. Doyle was instantly on alert. Surely it wasn't another Cougan rerun? He quickly reviewed the fight in his head. Yes, he had thrown a few strong punches in Collins' direction but - dear God - not a fatal blow? Cowley saw fear begin to mount in his agent's eyes and knew why. There was nothing he could say to ease the situation. He'd have to await a doctor's report - providing Collins wasn't feigning of course.

They all went in silence to the hospital, Doyle driving, Bodie with his charge - one should say casualty - at the back. On arrival Doyle got out quickly and went to Collins' side. He was barely conscious.

"Did he say anything?" Doyle asked his mate anxiously. Bodie saw the concern in his partner and understood the reason. He shook his head. Doyle ran off for a doctor and a stretcher while Bodie waited, also getting very anxious. He too had been rerunning the battle in his head. He too had been throwing heavy punches around with gay abandon.

Bodie awkwardly tried to take the cuffs off so Collins could be attended to. Doyle had to help him. He'd noticed Bodie's other hand. It was very swollen and going blue.

"Is that a bandage or a tourniquet?" he enquired.

"Yeah, the doc was very heavy handed." Bodie was trying to move his fingers and failing.

While they'd been talking, Doyle began to cuff himself to Collins. He wanted to be with him while they assessed and, if Collins were acting, he didn't want him giving them the slip - again.

"What are you doing?" the doctor enquired tetchily, easing the man onto a stretcher.

"He's in our custody …" Doyle began fishing one-handedly for his ID.

"I don't care who you are, this man will be going nowhere - except perhaps to meet his maker."

The doctor had been peering under Collins's eyelids and taking his pulse. The CI5 men went cold at the doctor's prognosis.

"That bad?" Bodie queried. He and his mate were trailing behind the stretcher.

"We'll have to see," the doctor conceded and disappeared into a cubicle with his patient.

Bodie went over to Reception to get himself booked in. Doyle noticed his keenness which told him that Bodie was in pain.

With both the casualties away for treatment, Doyle was at a loose end. The canteen beckoned, but he felt a great reluctance to move far from Collins' side. He still wasn't convinced that the man was as sick as the doctor was making out - or at least he was trying to assure himself of that. By the time Bodie had emerged, Doyle was swinging back to the idea that Collins could have internal injuries caused by blow or blows from an attacker - viz. himself.

"How did you get on?" Doyle enquired, wanting to divert his mind from dark thoughts as he friend emerged from a cubicle with his arm in a sling.

"A few stitches. Doc says not to take these till I'm near a bed."

Doyle took the pack of tablets off him. They were strong painkillers. "Yeah, they'll knock you out all right. When we're done here, you're coming home with me and you can sleep it off there."

"Ta, mate. Any news on Collins?"

Doyle's face turned very serious and he shook his head.

"You've already decided that this is your fault, haven't you?"

"Stop reading me!" Doyle snapped.

Bodie sighed in frustration. He was just reaching for something else to say to divert his mate's line of thought when the doctor appeared looking like the Prophet of Doom. He didn't have to open his mouth to make any surprise announcements.

"Shall we go to my office, gentlemen," was all he said.

They exchanged glances and trailed behind the doctor. Once they'd sat down in his office, the medic took off his glasses and confirmed that Collins was dead.

"Cause?" Bodie asked anxiously, not sure that he wanted to know the answer.

"I'd suspect poisoning," he replied unexpectedly.

The two agents looked at each other in astonishment.

"It's clear that the man has been in a fight, and the PM will have to decide cause of death. I can't be certain of how he died from a preliminary examination, but his fever and symptoms point to poisoning or perhaps disease. We'll have to see."

"Could it be from internal injuries?" Doyle queried. He wasn't ready to relinquish the role of executioner just yet. "You said yourself that he'd been in a fight."

"Yes, possible, but I couldn't detect swelling of the major organs. I'm sorry, but you'll just have to wait for …"

"How long before the PM?" Bodie interjected.

"Depends on how many bodies are stacking up over there. I believe they're a bit behind, what with the motorway smash a couple of days ago and so on. We'll send your man on in the next hour of course, then it's a waiting game till then."

Bodie's heart sank, not for his own sake, but that of his mate. One of the would have to break the news to the Cow.


End file.
